


The Things that They Don't Want You To See (But You See Just As Much)

by lauren2381



Series: Seal Team Week [5]
Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22279279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauren2381/pseuds/lauren2381
Summary: Brock lurked in the shadows of the world, never staying in one place for too long. No one questioned the silent sailor; they were happy to serve next to him and even happier that he was good with a gun. You didn’t need to be loud or brash or harsh to be a good sailor, all you needed was to show up and make sure that everyone made their way back home.He was good at that.It wasn’t until he was drafted to Bravo that it began to change.
Series: Seal Team Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599820
Comments: 14
Kudos: 105





	The Things that They Don't Want You To See (But You See Just As Much)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Day Five!

Ever since he was a child, Brock was seen and very seldom heard. It was useful and it suited him well; no one was going to come after the kid that never spoke. But that also meant that no one was going to adopt the kid that didn’t speak, no potential parents wanted a shiny new child that was also mute. Not that they wanted a fourteen-year-old boy anyways, but it didn’t help his chances either.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak, or that he couldn’t. He just didn’t have anything that needed to be said, and really what was there to say? His mother left him, father OD’ed. That was the truth and the truth didn’t lie. It certainly wasn’t going to sugar coat the fact that he was alone in the world. And for a while, that’s how it stayed. 

Brock lurked in the shadows of the world, never staying in one place for too long. No one questioned the silent sailor; they were happy to serve next to him and even happier that he was good with a gun. You didn’t need to be loud or brash or harsh to be a good sailor, all you needed was to show up and make sure that everyone made their way back home. 

He was good at that. 

It wasn’t until he was drafted to Bravo that it began to change. 

* * *

Change doesn’t happen overnight, but one day instead of sitting at the end of the bar and nodding along, Brock cracked a joke and smiled when Ray shot beer out of his nose. He wasn’t as loud as Sonny and he wasn’t nearly as profane as Swanny, but he spoke to someone that wasn’t Cerberus. And when he spoke, the others listened.

With every new addition to the team, Brock took his time to study them before he decided on what his first words were going to be to the new guy. Sometimes it was a joke or a piece of advice, and sometimes it was nothing at all. The guys he didn’t speak to never lasted very long on the team and when Jason finally boots them, he admits that he never liked them anyway.

The guys laugh and grin over their bottles of beer, they’d never tell him that it was one of the biggest reasons that the new guy was booted. If  _ Brock _ of all people couldn’t find something,  _ anything _ , nice to say… wasn’t exactly the kind of guy that they wanted on the team.

When Nate dies, Brock feels a bit of regret that he didn’t say nearly as much to him as he did to Trent. There was always this niggling sense that he could have done more, said more, been there more. But regrets were useless unless there was an action to correct the mistake, so when Jason and Ray drafted Clay Spenser, Brock wasn’t about to let his newest brother stew in silence. 

He just didn’t expect to see himself in the young blonde, which to be honest was more than a little disconcerting. Most of the men on Bravo were rough and tumble, they didn’t sit still, and they like to pretend that their feelings didn’t exist. Clay was the same way, on the surface. The very first time that Brock met Clay on a transport to some desert hellhole, he watched and waited. The kid was arrogant, and even a little much for Brock to stomach, Cerb disagreed. The normally cautious pooch went right up to the kid for some well-deserved belly rubs after successfully identifying the explosive device and that said it all. 

If the dog liked him, he couldn’t be that bad. But for now, Brock would watch from the shadows. No sense in breaking the ice if the kid couldn’t hack it through Green Team. For the next four weeks, three days, and twelve hours, Brock watched the kid, thinking of the first thing that he would say to his brother. 

Except Brock couldn’t think of anything to say. Every piece of information that they learned was deflected and turned into a joke, or in some cases wasn’t answered at all. Clay Spenser was mission ready. Over time, he grew more comfortable and joked around with Sonny and Ray, but never offered anything up about himself, unknowingly sparking Brock’s curiosity.

They all knew about his father, they knew that he had been shipped off to Liberia as a child, they knew that his mother died when he was a child. They had all the basic information of how he enlisted and where he served, but they were missing large parts of the equation. 

Who taught him how to speak all of his different languages?

Did he enlist right out of high school?

Were his grandparents even still alive?

Did he even talk to Ash about his decision?

But each time someone questioned him, they were brushed off with a joke and the promise of buying more beer during the next liquor run, but you couldn’t fool Brock. When he didn’t speak, he was watching, and the more that he watched his newest brother, the more concerned he became. 

The kid was hiding something. 

* * *

Brock knows that he needs to say something, soon. Ray keeps shooting him furtive looks when he thinks that Jason isn’t paying attention during training, but Brock doesn’t know what to say yet. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak to Clay, just what could he say? The man was good at everything, and his focus was primarily on Cerberus, not a sniper rifle. “Good shot, brother,” he said quietly, noting when Jason’s eyebrows shot up and Sonny grinned. The ornery man could fool everyone, making them think that he wasn’t already attached to Clay, but Brock saw the writing on the wall. 

Clay scoffed and raised his head from the target that he was examining. Yeah it was a good target, but it wasn’t perfect. The grouping was tight, and there was more than one bullseye, but not all of them were bullseyes. For a moment, he thought that Brock was taunting him, but seeing no trace of dishonesty in his face, Clay nodded. “Could be better, should be really. Thanks brother.”

Brock was taken aback. His target was certainly better than he could have done, but Clay still wasn’t happy with it, he needed to be perfect. Brock watched him lineup another target and send it down range, shouldering his rifle. As he took each shot, Brock watched him autocorrect. Each shot his breathing changed and position shifted until he was satisfied. He wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfection.

“Hey Kid, finish that target up.” Brock was shaken from his thoughts by Jason by his side. Looking out of the corner of his eye at Jason, he tried to keep his attention on Clay. In the field, each shot needed to be perfect, but during training… they were focused on consistency and accuracy. Not perfection. 

Clay gave a thumbs up and re-centered his shot, breathing deeply he pulled the trigger and frowned when it hit just right of center. Collecting the rest of his targets, Clay cleaned up his station and brought them to compare to Ray’s. His targets had tighter groupings, but Ray’s had more bullseyes. 

“You did good, kid. We start the simulation in twenty, gear up.”

As everyone filed out, Brock took his time to look at Clay, scowling down at his targets. He knew that look well; it was one of frustration. A look that he often wore when he couldn’t get something right when training Cerberus, you should never have to settle for your best when you could be  _ the _ best. Brock always needed to be the best and it looked like Clay took after him in that department.

Perfection was necessary when failure meant a slap or a hit. 

“Come on brother, I bet you can kick my ass in the next one,” Brock said, slapping his shoulder. And if he took the simulation a tad bit slower than normal, no one would ever know. They would just blame Cerberus and toss him an extra treat. After all they were working hard. 

* * *

Sitting in a bar with his brothers was an activity that Brock never tired of, there was always something to eat and endless entertainment in the form of Sonny Quinn. Sandwiched between his brothers, Brock didn’t notice the guy walking up to Davis and Clay at the bar, didn’t hear what he said either. But he did see Clay throw the first punch and Davis hold his shoulders back when the guy hit the deck. 

Shooting to his feet with Ray they jogged over to where Clay was standing, chest heaving as he stared down at the guy. They boys only heard Clay mutter one sentence before he stalked off, leaving Lisa to collect the next round of beer, on the house. “The lady said no.”

“What in the holy hell was that all about?” Sonny said strolling up next to Lisa, not so subtly checking her over.

“Hell, I don’t know brother. We were over there waiting for our beer. Davis was with him!” Ray exclaimed, not wanting to be blamed for Clay getting upset. Trent would kill them if they found out that Clay had busted his knuckle punching some twerp. Again. 

“It’s fine, the guy was hitting on me, I said no, very politely. The dude didn’t want to take no for an answer and got handsy, Clay put an end to it, that’s all there is to it.”

The boys stood for a moment in disbelief, surely there had to be more to it than that. Clay was normally not one to throw the first punch, he preferred to try and get out of there with as little drama as possible and here he was making a scene at the bar. 

“Davis, you sure the little shit didn’t say anything else?” Ray prodded. Something had gotten under the kid’s skin and one comment from a bar fly wasn’t going to cut it.

“He got handsy and I didn’t like it, that’s really  _ all _ it was,” Lisa soothed, herding them back to the table that they commandeered for the evening. “Just give him a minute, he’ll be fine.”

They sat down again, but Brock watched as each of his brothers had one eye firmly fixed on the door of the men’s bathroom, waiting for Clay to come out. When he finally did, there was still an angry flush to his cheeks, but he looked calmer, Davis was definitely onto something. 

“Hey Captain America, let me take a look at your knuckles. Trent’s gonna kill ya if they split again,” Sonny teased reaching out for his hand, half expecting Clay to pull away. Clay willingly relinquished his hand to Sonny and turned to Davis, searching her face.

“Nothing’s changed since the last time you saw me, I’m fine Clay. You did good. Thank you.” Lisa Davis wasn’t one to need a knight in shining armor, but just this once she’d settle for a sailor wearing camo, they were more effective at their job anyways.

Clay shrugged and scratched his head, not knowing what to say. 

He wasn’t going to stand and watch some asshole try and make moves on a lady that clearly said no, it wasn’t really a big deal. 

“It’s no big deal Davis, let’s just finish the beer.” Brock watched as Clay let Sonny finish inspecting his knuckles before guiding them back to their table. Yeah, the kid didn’t do anything spectacular, in fact it was more of what Sonny would do than what was typical of Clay, but it was more than that. 

There were several times when Clay had come in and saved someone’s ass or done something that was deserving of praise that he deflected away. It was never obvious or overt that he  _ didn’t _ want the praise, but to Brock each time he dodged a compliment, it almost seemed like he felt that he wasn’t deserving of praise. 

He never accepted Sonny’s very heartfelt thank you’s when he saved his ass from yet another spider infestation in some jungle. Never let Ray compliment him on a good shot from what seemed to be an impossible distance. Jason wasn’t even allowed to mention a job well done to the kid without a groan or a complaint. Emma was probably the only one that could say something nice, and Brock would put money down that she begged him. No one was immune to Emma Kate Hayes’s big eyes. 

After weeks of not knowing what to do with his youngest brother, Brock came to realization watching Sonny try and fit as many peanut shells as he could in his mouth: his brother needed a support person, without being designated a support person. 

Brock could do that, after all, he had one. She had four legs and a tail, but it was still someone. Clay was dealing with something that he didn’t want to talk about, and Brock was a master at  _ not  _ talking about the things that bothered him. Hell, it took him fourteen years before he told anyone that could speak English that his parents were dead. He could do this. 

Clay needed him to do this. 

Waiting until everyone had settled down into their beers, Brock nudged Clay on the shoulder with elbow. “Hey Kid, you did good.”

A flush came over Clay’s face and when he looked up at him, Brock could tell that he didn’t really think that he had done anything special. That had to change. 

“No really, Davis can take care of herself, but no man should act like that, you did good.”

Clay grit his teeth and nodded tersely but didn’t try to deflect. 

_ There it was _ , Brock thought to himself. No man should act like that. Brock had hit a nerve with one sentence, and completely unintentionally. Ash Spenser was a legend in the SEAL community, but most looked at him through rose colored glasses, but apparently not everything was how it seemed. 

Brock would beg to differ based on the little he’s seen of the relationship between Clay and his father. Or rather the lack thereof. 

Maybe he and Clay had more in common than he thought, shitty father figures who cared more about their image than the child they were supposed to be raising, Brock knew plenty of those from the various foster homes he was placed in over the years. He just didn’t think that Clay’s childhood was that bad.

* * *

The next few missions that they went on, Brock watched Clay from the comfort of the shadows. He was quick to lend a helping hand when he could, but accepting help was like Sonny willingly swimming in shark infested waters, it just didn’t happen. 

The kid had gotten into yet another scrape and neglected to tell anyone until they were on transport back home. The scary vein on Trent’s forehead had started to pop when he realized that Clay had burned both forearms and waited six  _ hours _ before he told anyone. Brock watched as Clay tried to explain how he didn’t think it was that bad and that he was going to patch it up later, but Trent wouldn’t hear any of it, he was already winding gauze pads around his forearms and muttering darkly under his breath.

“Kid one day you’re going to learn that I wanna know about everything, even if it’s a fucking hangnail. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on and you can’t keep taking years off my life every time you hit the deck,” Trent growled, taping the last pad in place.

“I didn’t think it was that bad, could’ve handled it myself,” Clay said petulantly, brows furrowed. 

Sensing another incoming disaster, Brock nudged Cerberus towards Trent, making the medic whirl around the excited pup to keep his balance, arms flailing every which way. 

And Clay flinched every time his hands got remotely close to him. 

Every time. 

A highly trained sailor was afraid of his own brother’s hands, ones that are supposed to protect and support him. And he was afraid. 

“Clay, it’s fine. You’re going to tell us next time, right?” Brock interjected before  _ anything _ else could go wrong on this mission. The last thing they needed was someone flipping out for no good reason, not if they could avoid it. 

Clay nodded and said nothing. But he didn’t have to, Brock knew. 

He knew that he didn’t just strive for perfection, he needed to be perfect whether that was to earn someone’s love or to prevent his failure from resulting in pain. He knew that being praised was something that he struggled with, because no one ever praised him for his good deeds, only criticized him for his shortcomings. He knew that accepting help for anything was a struggle because he never knew if it was going to be met with kindness or if he would end up more battered. 

Clay might never say the words to his brothers, but he didn’t have to. Brock knew and he was sure that the others had at the very least a sinking suspicion of what he was hiding behind his boyish grin. 

Even if Clay never uttered the words out loud, Brock understood; like knows like and he saw the things that no one wanted to see. 

So. for now, Brock would watch and wait, and when the moment was right, he would tell Clay all of the things that he endured to get to his spot. He wasn’t alone anymore; he had his brothers by his side.

He deserved to be seen and to see just as much as he did. 


End file.
